Chapter Text
"Denji, this is a contract."
Power hadn't even voiced her terms, and she could already feel it taking effect. It made her heart swell up even as she felt her heart begin to spin. There was an element of pride to it that her blood would obey her commands so quickly, so obediently, but it went deeper than that. She knew that Denji was going to make her proud. He didn't need to verbally agree to the contract; the fact that her blood was already draining told her that he would take full advantage of the opportunity she was granting him.
Truthfully, she would know that she was making the right choice even if she couldn't literally feel it. Looking down at Denji's tear-stained face, she knew that he would find a way to make everything right, no matter how impossible it may seem.
She didn't expect Denji to see that, foolish, short-sighted creature that he was. The fear in his shining eyes told her that he was seeing the color drain out of her face as anemia set in. "Power," he whispered, a desperate plea telling her he was scared she might die.
She might. The thought didn't scare her anymore. Power didn't want to die, but all lives were equally insignificant - including her own.
All lives were equally insignificant, but Denji meant something more to her. He was her first friend. He and Aki were her family. As long as they were okay, then she was fine with disappearing.
Power didn't have time to waste on unnecessary words, but she had to do something to tell Denji that it would be okay. That he could do this. So she smiled, softer and sadder than she could remember having ever felt before, leaned in close, and said, "Take my blood and fight. Don't let Makima hurt us anymore."
Darkness claimed her before she could tell him to come home. As she collapsed into a pile of refuse and succumbed to unconsciousness, Power hoped that he understood. She hoped that she would be there to greet him when the time came.
And if she wasn't, she hoped that the people she left behind would be alright without her.
*
This household would fall apart without Power. It's a simple fact that she had accepted shortly after moving into Aki's apartment. Her companions are simply too dysfunctional to be left without her. They would make fools of themselves, and all would be reduced to shambles in an instant.
Something has made that weight heavier over the past few weeks. It feels more... real. Inescapable. It creates an itch under her skin and sets her heart racing, yet she cannot bring herself to shrug it off. As much as she hates it, the thought of what may happen if she refuses to bear the burden is even more repugnant. So she sets a good example, takes responsibility, and does her best to make sure that her group all acts like the functional adults that they're supposed to be.
They're broken enough that it isn't always enough, even with her fantastic abilities. There are times when she senses that her help will go unnoticed and unappreciated. On those occasions, she leaves her companions alone to wait for a better time to act. But she never pulls away for long. It would be dangerous for her to pull away for long lest a problem arises that only she can resolve.
There isn't anything to gain from staying away from everyone for too long anyway. Power's room - Denji's room, technically, but everyone knows that it's Power's too - is nice and comfortable. When Denji's with her and she knows where everyone else is, it's even peaceful. She hadn’t been a big fan of 'peaceful' in the past, but after everything, it settles into her bones and warms her in a way that it never did before.
It's not peaceful when Denji isn't there, or she doesn't know what everyone else is doing. At those times, it's just a place for her to catch her breath before the emptiness pulsating in her chest and the restlessness buzzing under her skin sends her back out. And she always goes back out. Being out and around the house, being the smart, sane, reliable one holding them all together, may cause pressure in her chest and weight in her stomach, but it's better than that.
Besides, she has responsibilities.
Power did her morning rounds before retiring to her room for a little while. Not because she was tired or anxious or burnt out or any of those weak, stupid feelings that she had never felt. She just went in there because there was nothing better to do. However, enough time has passed that it is almost time for her to tend to her afternoon duties. She pushes the door open and starts down the hallway with slow, plodding footsteps.
The house is quiet. It's always quiet.
The apartment was never quiet. She misses it, the yelling and the crashing and the clamor. It's easier to fall asleep here, but the sleep itself was better when the days were filled with laughter and arguments, her and Denji shouting and cackling at each other while Aki yelled at them both to stop it.
Now it's like she and Denji have been muzzled. There's never anything on their faces, but the effect is the same. And Aki...
There are three bedrooms in the house. Power's, which she barely ever spends any time in. Denji's, which plays host to both of them. It is the sight of the third bedroom that makes her stop. She hesitates for a moment before walking over to the door with slow, tentative footsteps. Her weight shifts from foot to foot as she stares at the door and gnaws at her lower lip. Finally, she raises her hand to grasp at the doorknob, only to lower it the second contact is made.
"'Tis not time yet," she mutters to herself. One of her responsibilities is maintaining some semblance of routine. There is no telling what chaos will erupt if that routine is disrupted.
Besides, he may get upset if she's too early. The last thing she wants is to make him even grumpier.
Power steps back and continues down the hallway. It isn’t very long; if she weren’t taking the time to be observant, she would already be out. But these are circumstances that call for careful observation, so it takes several minutes for her to make her way from her bedroom to the living room.
Upon entry, she is met by the same sight that greeted her when she woke up. Empty cartons of food from yesterday’s takeout cover the short table in the center of the room. A few have tumbled over to lay on the ground.
Power sniffs. The scent of stale foodstuffs floods her nostrils. Allowing the garbage to fester overnight is harmless, but if someone does not clean it up soon, it will start to truly stink. If they leave it for long after that, there will be bugs and all of the other things that Aki would fret over for some stupid reason. It’s still stupid to fret over it. After spending the past year wishing that Aki would let them make messes, she doesn’t know why the thought of leaving this one alone makes her skin itch.
She doesn’t know why she can’t stop staring at it.
The feeling of a soft, warm body twining around her ankles pulls her attention away from the refuse. Power sighs as she bends down to pick Meowy up. “‘Tis nonsensical, isn’t it?” she asks.
Meowy meows in response. She relaxes her grip so the cat can twist around to face her. A tiny smile crosses her lips when a small pink nose touches hers. “You’re right,” Power declares, “It is not my problem anyway.” She has many duties, but cleaning is not one of them.
Most of the time.
Denji has been trying to enforce a “chore schedule,” but it isn’t her turn to clean up after dinner.
Is it…?
Power casts the garbage a sidelong glance. She stares at it for a long moment and bites her lower lip.
“No,” she declares. There are other, more important things to do. She will not allow herself to become absorbed in something so pointless and stupid. Adjusting her grip on Meowy, she walks the rest of the way to the kitchen.
It is slightly less messy than the living room. The countertops are cluttered with boxes of food, supplies, and other things that no one could be bothered to put away, but the table is clear. There is nothing on the floor.
The mess has not stopped Angel from sitting on the countertop. His extended wings are carefully pressed against the wall in what she can only assume is a half-hearted attempt to avoid knocking anything off the counter. His left wing is blocking out the light streaming through the nearby window and casting the kitchen into shadows. He barely even glances up from the bun that he’s listlessly picking at when Power enters the room.
That’s fine. She barely glances at him before dropping Meowy in his lap.
Angel makes a disgruntled sound. “Don’t drop your cat on me when I’m eating.”
“You’re always eating,” Power counters, reaching onto her tiptoes and opening a cabinet beside his head. A meager array of snacks greet her. None of it looks satisfying. She squints at it anyway, willing it to turn into something better.
“So don’t drop your cat on me.”
“You should be honored to pet Meowy.”
It takes a suspiciously long time for Angel to respond. She looks over to find him staring down at Meowy, who’s settled down on his lap, but not making a move to touch her. The bun has been set down beside him.
“...Your behavior is an insult,” Power grumbles.
“Tough.” Angel looks at her for a moment, agitated, only to look away again an instant later. “I’m still not used to it.”
Power closes the cabinet. It makes a noise that sends Meowy jumping out of Angel’s lap. “Are you not meant to be working on that?”
Angel shrugs. “And you were supposed to clean up last night.”
Power opens her mouth. Closes it. “...T’was Denji’s turn.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Angel sighs, looking up at the ceiling. A roll of paper towels wobbles dangerously as his left wing twitches. The right knocks over a box of bland, tasteless crackers that none of them are going to eat. He looks over at it, blinking, before looking back at Power. “I’m too tired to argue with you about this.”
Power decides to take this as the victory that it is. The glaring absence in the room keeps it from being truly sweet.
“Where’s Denji?” she asks.
Angel shrugs. Again . The spark of agitation it sends through her is weaker than it would have been three weeks ago. After living with him for that long, she knows better than to expect any true commitment from him. That doesn’t stop the spark from blossoming into something hot and grasping when he says, “He went out somewhere.”
“You did not find out where?” she demands.
Angel frowns. “Am I supposed to keep track of him?”
Power opens her mouth, about to tell him that yes , they all need to watch each other. The words die before they even have a chance to form. She closes her mouth with a sigh and looks across the room, where Meowy is fishing a few kibbles from her bowl. It is nearly empty.
Just as Power has responsibilities, Angel has his own. The difference is that his are the result of choice rather than obligation. The Control Devil destroyed everyone around Power in one way or another; Angel is the only one who received any accidental kindness in the destruction, warped though it may be. Makima had no use for a pawn without arms, so she restored his. She demanded everything from him, so in the aftermath of her control, he was left with no powers to speak of.
Angel is now one of the weakest devils in existence. He is also, she knows, freer than he has ever been. If he made an effort, he could likely integrate himself into society. He could have a life beyond these four walls.
Yet he chose to stay.
But not for Denji and Power. They are not the ones he chose to shackle himself to. Therefore, he has no duty to them.
Power slinks over to the table. She pulls a chair out and flops into it, and although she doesn't say a word, her gaze remains locked on Angel. He stares back impassively.
Time ticks by.
Angel picks his bun back up and resumes picking at it. Occasionally he lifts a bit of the sweet bread to his lips, but it looks like he's pulling it apart more than anything.
Power glances at the clock hanging from the wall.
"It's not noon yet," Angel says.
"I know," comes Power's irritable response. It's close, but close doesn't make it noon, which means that it still isn't time.
Power goes back to watching Angel. He's too engrossed in the slow but brutal decimation of his bun to bother looking back at her at this point.
The gentle crunch of Meowy eating her kibbles comes to a stop. There's a mew, the sound of footsteps, and the next thing she knows, Meowy is rubbing against her calves, soft and warm. Power drops her hand down and feels her rub her face against it.
The door opens.
"I found Denji," Angel says as Power jumps to her feet.
"Denji!" she calls, racing out of the kitchen and over to the doorway.
Denji blinks when he sees her. His arms are full of plastic grocery bags, but her attention is drawn to the ones under his eyes. They seem bigger than they were when she last saw him. That shouldn't be possible, considering she only saw him a few hours ago. But the smile that he offers her is weak and wobbly, and it all but confirms to her that he is in an even worse condition than he was when she left him.
Fool. This is what he gets for taking the initiative and attempting a task without consulting her first.
...It is not entirely Denji's fault. She is the one who retreated when she should have made her presence known.
"Hey," Denji says, shifting his bags into one hand as he reaches back to close the door with the other. Why he didn't do that before going inside is lost to her. Probably another sign of his waning condition. "Is everything okay?"
Power crosses her arms. "You did not tell me you were heading out."
The door closes with a click. It is loud in the silence that falls after her statement.
"...I didn't?" Denji asks.
"No."
"I thought... I... Shit." Denji's smile, already so blatantly false, disappears completely. He drops his head with a tired sigh. "Sorry, Powy. Guess I forgot."
Power hums. "See that it doesn't happen again."
"Will do."
Denji starts forward. Power drops her arms to her sides and follows him.
"Hey!" Denji exclaims upon stepping into the kitchen. He raises a hand to point at Angel. "Watch the wings! You're gonna knock shit over!"
"Probably," Angel admits, not bothering to look up from his bun. A few more bites have been taken from it, but now he's down to turning it over in his hands.
"That means you should get off," Denji presses.
"Later," Angel mutters.
"You suck," Denji grumbles. And that's where he leaves in because the Angel Devil may be yet another thing that feels wrong most of the time, but his wrongness at least serves a purpose. He is there by choice - neither of them is willing to push too far and see if he might change his mind.
Especially Denji.
Denji dumps the contents of his bags onto the table one by one. All sorts of boring stuff comes tumbling out. Paper towels, soap, toilet paper, sponges, laundry detergent, the sort of things that he never would have bothered with a few weeks ago.
It is not important enough to warrant him worrying her.
Power wrinkles her nose. "You left us to get this?"
"This stuff's important, and we're running out," Denji says, utterly unenthusiastic.
"We have plenty of paper towels," Angel says.
Power and Denji look over to find him turning a roll of paper towels over in his hands. The remains of his bun sit abandoned by his side once again. Power only looks at him for a little while before turning to Denji, who is staring at him dully.
"...Well, now we have more," Denji eventually says.
Angel looks up. A frown crosses his face as his crimson eyes flicker over to the table. "What about the rest?" he asks. "Are you sure we needed all of it?"
"Yeah! I mean, we were..." The fire that Denji managed to summon at the beginning of his response falters. He looks at the pack of paper towels on the table. Finally, his shoulders droop, and he admits, "I don't know. I just saw that we were running out of some of this shit, and it all seemed to go together, so I just... got it all."
He drops into one of the chairs, props his elbows up on the table, and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I mean, it's not like we can't afford it, right?" he asks. Power can't tell if he wants an answer or anything.
Angel gives him one anyway. "I guess it won't hurt."
"Right! Aki's will left us with great riches!" Power exclaims. She says it because the air will get even heavier if she allows it to go quiet, but the second the words leave her mouth, she knows that they are the wrong ones. The uncomfortable weight that she dreaded manifests as something truly unbearable.
Denji drops his face into his hands.
Angel pulls his wings in and looks down at his feet.
Power shoots a desperate glance at the clock. This time, luck is on her side.
It's two minutes past twelve.
"'Tis time," she says.
Denji grunts in acknowledgment.
Angel shoots Power a look that makes her hesitate. The moment of silent inaction comes to an end when he slides his way off of the counter. However, rather than moving to intervene, he offers Power a nod and walks over to the kitchen table, where he begins collecting some of the cleaning supplies.
Power feels her shoulders relax slightly. "I will be back," she murmurs.
Meowy is waiting for her at the kitchen entrance. She scoops her up before continuing on her mission.
It doesn't take her nearly as long to get back to the third door as it did to leave her room. She hesitates once again when she stops before it, but only for the short instant it takes for her to formulate the perfect plan of action. Before she knows it, her hand's gripping the cold metal of the doorknob. She turns and steps inside.
The room is practically pitch black. Once, daylight might have streamed in through the window, but now the curtains are drawn tightly shut. It takes a moment for Power's eyes to adjust to the darkness. She knows that she could start forward even without it. For all of the things that have changed, some at least have stayed the same, and the floor has been left clear of obstructions. Regardless, she waits until she can see the figure in the bed with some clarity, then she waits a little while longer, staring at him.
Aki's new appearance has never frightened her. Power does not so easily - nay, she does not startle at all. Yet even she cannot deny the feelings of disquiet that it sparked within her at first. He walked in looking like that, tore their home apart, and tried to kill them, completely separate from reality.
A weaker person would have been terrified.
Power had simply felt her stomach churn, struggled to breathe, took care of herself, and waited for Denji to fix the situation.
It very nearly turned into something worse. The horrible feelings tugging at Power's insides did turn into something else, something worse, and maybe... maybe she does feel fear after all. Just not for herself.
What she feels as she stares at Aki is neither the horrible sensation she experienced when she opened the door nor the horrible, cold, clawing thing that haunted her in the weeks that followed. Their house is cold and quiet, but it is still better now than it was then, so those feelings have been banished to the depths of her memory. What lingers is a weak yet unignorable ache. It forces her to pause and stare for a moment, to watch Aki's chest until she's sure that he's at least breathing.
She only pauses for a moment. That same ache also serves to strengthen her sense of resolve and responsibility. This is one of the most important of her duties, something that only she can do.
Power marches over to the side of the bed. Meowy squirms in her arms, doubtlessly aware of what is about to happen. She opts to provide instruction anyway. Grasping Meowy under her front legs, she turns the feline around to stare her down and says, "Wake him."
Then she sets her down on Aki's chest.
Meowy gets to work immediately. She pads up to Aki's face and paws at his cheek. He turns his head over but makes no other signs of waking. Naturally, Meowy takes this as a sign that more advanced measures need to be taken. She steps onto his cheek and leans forward to sniff at the gun barrel jutting out of his face. This elicits a groan, but it is not until Meowy begins licking the gun outright that he raises a clumsy hand to gently push her back down to his chest.
"Power," he blearily grumbles.
"'Tis noon," she says by way of explanation.
Aki's head turns in the direction of the tiny alarm on his nightstand, bright, glowing letters cutting through the dark like a knife. "...I see," he murmurs.
Aki slept for three weeks straight after Denji brought him back to his senses. Power is the one who was there when he woke up. Now, it is her duty to make sure that he always wakes up.
This marks her daily mission as a success. Now that he knows what time it is, he will pull himself together and rejoin the rest of the household. Power can safely leave and do whatever she pleases for a while.
She climbs onto Aki's bed and crawls on his chest. Meowy jumps off as she leans as close as he can without bumping her head against his face gun.
"Is everything alright?" Aki asks. He sounds more alert now. This would be a good sign if he didn't always sound more alert when he's worrying about them. Power's beginning to suspect that it doesn't mean much when the rest of the time it sounds like a part of him never woke up. Still, it's something, Denji and Angel say it's progress, so she takes what she can get.
Today, taking when she can get means groaning and burning her face in the crook of Aki's neck. She can feel the edge of steel where his gun arm meets his body through his shirt. It bothered her the first few times she curled up against him, back when he was still fast asleep. Now, she presses her cheek against it and says, "Denji and Angel are being stupid again."
"How?"
"They're just stupid."
"I see."
Power feels a hand gently running over her hair. She makes a pleased sound at the contact. After a few moments of this, she sits up, not scooting off of Aki entirely but giving him some room to sit up. "Do my hair," she demands.
Aki sighs. She knows better than to expect it to be the precursor to any true protest. Indeed, his voice is weak and half-hearted when he asks, "Shouldn't you ask someone with two hands?"
"No," she says, for the answer is obvious. The act of getting her hair done isn't the point, even if one of them's decided to act ignorant about it.
"Alright," Aki says. He sits up slowly. Despite the darkness, she can tell that his gun arm is unnaturally, uncomfortably stiff and still, in part because he always holds it like that. She's squinting at it when he reaches over to flick the lamp on.
Suddenly, she's too busy trying to blink the spots out of her eyes to look at anything.
“Ghastly behavior,” Power hisses, raising her hands to rub at her eyes. "You should have provided a warning."
"Sorry," Aki says. To his minimal credit, he genuinely does sound somewhat apologetic. "Are you okay?"
"Of course," Powers says, dropping her hands back into her lap. There are still spots in her vision, but she's trying to set a good example. A prolonged display of weakness is unacceptable. "But you are certain to blind yourself, swathing yourself in darkness with sudden bursts of light. You should open the curtains."
Aki hums. "Maybe."
He opens the nightstand drawer and takes out a brush. There are more blonde hairs woven between the brustles than black. Aki sets a moment brushing it off before pulling himself up. "Turn around," he says.
Power does as he says. Soon, the brush runs through her hair in smooth, rhythmic strokes. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back into the touch. Eventually, it is joined by the careful, unsteady touch of fingers attempting to separate her hair and weave it together. Aki is not very good at braiding, but he is getting better. Power is getting used to wearing a braid.
She knows when Aki is almost done without him saying anything. He lets go of the painstakingly woven braid, and she hears him rifling through the draw not even a second later. Finally, he wraps a hair tie around the bottom of the braid and announces, "Done."
Power stands up. She runs a hand over the braid, feeling the places where bits of hair are coming loose, or the twist is a little sloppy and nods her approval.
"Good," she says. "Come out within the half hour, or I will return to fetch you."
"Alright," Aki says. He's fishing through his drawer again, probably looking for his cigarettes. This entire room smells like smoke. Power probably smells like smoke too now, but it's fine. The smell will rub off before very long.
She turns around to head out, only to hesitate when she reaches the door. Turning back around, she adds, "Do not enter the living room."
Slowly, warily, Aki turns to face her. "What's wrong with the living room?"
"Denji has neglected his duties. I am being forced to clean it for him."
"...As long as it gets done."
"It shall," Power assures him, a remorselessly necessary promise that agonizes her to make.
Aki relaxes a bit. She takes that as her cue to leave.
She does not close the door behind her.
*
Power grabs a garbage bag and stuffs the empty take-out containers cluttering the living room inside. Every second is agony, but at least it doesn't take very long. She is soon left standing in an empty room with a full garbage bag and a sense of...
Not satisfaction. She isn't satisfied. The containers are gone, but the room isn't clean. She still smells the pungent aroma of old food when she breathes in, and some of it comes from the open bag leaning against the table, but a good portion of it emanates from the room itself. It shouldn't bother her. It wouldn't have bothered her a few weeks ago. But a few weeks ago, she wouldn't have picked up Denji's slack in the first place. Now that she has taken up the task, the lingering aroma speaks of unacceptable failure.
The answer is clear. Power must restore the living room to a perfectly pristine state.
She has no idea how.
Power contemplates the best way to tackle this conundrum when she spots Aki walking down the hallway. He starts past the living room, only to double back and stare at Power. His expression is...
She doesn't know. It was always Aki's eyes that revealed how he felt, and those are long gone. His jaw is slack, his human shoulder drooping and the other awkwardly stiff, but attempting to puzzle out how he feels from that makes a flash of frustration flare up in her stomach. It is followed by a whispered thought, that she's gotten better at reading Aki, but it still isn't good enough. What if she can never tell how he feels with a look again?
Power crushes the thought down and decides that Aki feels impressed and grateful. It's the only thing that makes sense, after all.
"Behold! I have remedied Denji's failure!" She crows, spreading her arms out wide. One of her feet jerks to the side a few inches, knocking into the garbage bag by her feet and sending it falling over. A stained brown takeout box comes tumbling out.
Aki and Power stare at it.
"...The mess has been left so long that it resists me," she sniffs. "Fear not. I shall force it into submission."
Aki looks back at her. Power stares back at him, for she may be unable to truly meet his gaze, but the fast few weeks have taught her that looking away is decidedly the wrong move. Finally, he offers a small nod. It makes his hair shake slightly, and that movement draws her attention back to the topknot that he can't wear anymore. She wonders if he misses it. It was stupid, but it was a part of him. She wonders how bad it would be if she asked.
"Good job, Power," he says, pulling her back to the interaction at hand. The praise comes low and empty. It still makes something warm and proud spark within her chest. It's a feeling that may have been pleasant enough to make up for the frustrating tedium of the mountainous task that she has taken upon her shoulders.
Aki departs, and she is left alone with a bag of garbage and a room full of stench.
For a moment, she considers leaving it. The smell really isn't that bad. She's fine with it. Angel probably will be too. Denji only has the pitiful senses of a human, so he probably can't smell it at all.
The trouble is that she's certain that Aki's senses are a lot stronger now than when he was human, even if he likes to downplay it. If Power can smell it, he can too, and he won't be okay with it. If it bothers him too much, he'll avoid the living room, which will lead to him spending even more time in that dark room that stinks of smoke. So the smell has to go away.
But Power doesn't know how to fix it.
Aki probably does, but if she asks, she suspects that she will receive a dull response from someone who sounds like they're barely alive rather than someone who sounds like Aki. She hates those interactions. They're the only time when she's grateful that he doesn't have eyes anymore, for it means that she doesn't have to see them full and lifeless.
That leaves her with one acceptable option.
Power stuffs the fallen takeout carton back in the bag and ties it shut. She drags it behind her on the way to the kitchen, hefting it into her arms when she enters.
Angel has the cabinet beneath the sink open. He's either sorting through something or fiddling with the pipes again. His semi-mantled wings block her view, so she neither knows nor cares which. Aki stands leaning against the counter beside him, head dipped down slightly as the two converse in hushed tones. This does spark some curiosity in her, but not enough to get her to neglect her current mission in order to eavesdrop.
The kitchen table is clear again. Mostly. Denji is still sitting there, but now his feet are propped up on it, and his chair wobbles as he balances it on its back legs. His head is tilted back as he shamelessly tries to listen in on Aki and Angel's conversation. He is her target at this instant.
"Denji!" Power calls.
He lazily looks her way.
Power throws the garbage bag at him.
Angel's head snaps around, red eyes wide and alarmed. His wings fluff up and draw it closer when he catches sight of the garbage bag sailing through the air.
Aki looks up and lets out a sound of disbelief or outrage.
Denji jumps to his feet with a strangled yelp, grabbing the garbage bag just in time to avoid it slamming into him at full force.
Silence reigns for a heartbeat. Then-
"What the hell!?" Denji explains.
"Don't throw garbage!" Aki yells, his outrage an aching, familiar sound that makes her decide that she will definitely be throwing a garbage bag at Denji again soon.
"Yeah! What if it broke on me?" Denji tacks on.
Power props her hands on her hips. "It would serve you right, leaving me to clean when it was your turn."
"No!?" Denji cries, dropping the garbage bag beside him in able to point at her. "It was your turn to clean, you gremlin!"
Power sniffs. "Nay, I cleaned on Wednesday."
Denji shakes his finger as if he will get anywhere by doing so. "Yeah, and there's thr- that means it was your turn to clean again!"
"You really didn't," Angel mutters at the same time. In the corner of her eye, Power sees him stand up and lean over to whisper something to Aki.
This is getting them nowhere.
"I tire of this conversation," Power declares. She steps forward to grab Denji by the crook of his elbow and drags him after her as she walks out of the kitchen.
"H-Hey!" Denji cries. He makes a feeble attempt to tug himself out of her grip, but comes with her all the same, so she doesn't bother acknowledging it.
"Later," Angel murmurs as they depart. Aki remains silent save for a hum.
Power takes Denji to the sliding glass leading to the backyard. She releases his arm to throw it open with a thunk. Her expression is expectant when she looks back at him. Unfortunately, he is staring at her with a dull combination of tiredness and non-comprehension, the garbage bag clutched loosely in his grip.
"Power-"
"Silence," she hisses, jerking her head toward the kitchen. His frown fills her with apprehension that is cut down when he sighs and steps onto the back porch. She walks after him, slamming the door shut behind her.
"The living room stinks," she says without preamble.
Denji blinks. "Well, yeah, probably." He walks down the steps of the back porch. Power follows him with an impatient huff.
"How do we fix it?" she demands.
"Dunno." Denji pauses to push open the gate leading onto the driveway. He holds it open for Power, then allows it to slam shut behind them. "You cleaned up, didn't you?"
"Yes, but that has not fixed the problem. It still smells."
They walk down the street, toward the little alleyway that houses the dumpsters. Denji remains silent until they reach them, at which point he hums and shoves the garbage bag inside one of the giant blue containers. "We could open some windows?"
Power scoffs. "A situation like this cannot be solved simply by opening a window. Perhaps..." She pauses, nibbling her lower lip as she considers her latest idea. It is brilliant, but will Denji appreciate her brilliance? Or will her attempts to hold their house together push them further into discord?
No. There is no way that her idea is anything less than perfect. Therefore, there is no way that it could make things worse. There's no way that she can make things worse, period. The insecurity haunting her is stupid and must be banished immediately.
A sharp grin crosses her face as she looks back at Denji. "What if we were to cover it with a superior scent?"
Denji's face scrunches up as he considers her proposal. "Like scented candles?"
"Exactly!" Power crows. "I shall retrieve the scented candles and burn them until the stench is undetectable!"
"Uh..." Denji raises a hand to rub at the back of his head. "I don't think we actually have any scented candles? I mean, we did at the old place, but they kinda went..." He pulls his hand back and mimes an explosion.
Power frowns. "Oh. Well... I shall retrieve candles then."
Denji's shoulders slump. "I don't wanna go shopping again."
"You don't need to. I will fetch them."
Denji is already frowning. Now, that frown grows deeper. He glances down the alleyway in the direction of the house. "Maybe we should just ask Aki..."
"No!" Power snaps. "Aki isn't..." She trails off. It isn't that she can't describe Aki's current condition. She is certain that she could capture it perfectly if she made an effort. The problem is that she doesn't want to.
Power isn't stupid. She knows that refusing to directly acknowledge the situation doesn't make it any different. It feels different though, and she is unwilling to let go of that feeling.
She changes her method.
"Don't you want to show Aki that we are capable housekeepers?" she demands, stepping closer to Denji. "Do you wish to drop another burden on him when we could take the chance to prove how much we have learned?"
Power doesn't sound like herself. The realization hits her as she is speaking. Judging by the off look he gives her, Denji notices it too. A few weeks ago, he would have called her out on it. He would have demanded to know what her "deal" was and pressed until he figured out what was going through her head. Now, the ever-present shadow of exhaustion clinging to his features prevents any such thing from happening. He sighs, soft yet heavy, and asks, "Are you sure?"
Power steps back and tries to look proud of her victory. It doesn't quite feel right, but she holds onto the look anyway. "Of course," she says.
"And you know how to get to the store and back?"
"Now you insult me."
Denji starts walking back to the house. Power falls into step beside him. "Alright, I'll get you some cash," he says. "And if Aki asks..."
"Tell him that I had important errands to run."
Denji shoots her a sour look. "You know that'll just make him ask more questions. Then he'll get pissed at me for not going with you." He frowns and looks ahead. "Maybe I should go with you..."
"No," Power says, blunt and unwavering. "We cannot leave him alone."
She regrets her statement as soon as she says it. It comes too close to directly acknowledging the things that she wanted to avoid, shifts the feeling in her gut to something deeper and darker. But it's too late now, and as Denji looks back at her, she knows that it's too late to backtrack.
"Angel's there," Denji points out.
"He's always there," Power retorts. "Do you wish for him to fall further into the habit of isolating himself with only the Angel Devil?"
"Of course not! But I mean..." Denji falters. His gaze drops down to his feet. "It's always gonna be just us and Angel for him from now on, isn't it? I mean, there's no undoing..."
"Denji."
"Yeah." He sighs, rolls his shoulders, and looks back up. "I'll tell Angel you're out getting candles. We can wait and see if Aki notices you're gone, and if he does... Fuck, I don't know. We'll find a way to make it sound like a good idea."
"It is a good idea."
"I mean, it's not the worst."
Power smacks Denji on the back of his head, gently, but loud enough to make a satisfying sound. Her first blow hits, but when she goes for a second one, he ducks his head and dances out of the way.
"'Tis brilliant!" she barks.
"You're just covering one stink up with another one!" Denji retorts.
"You could come up with no better plan!"
"Could!" He turns into their driveway, practically running in his attempts to stay out of Power's range. "I could..."
The energy visibly drains out of Denji. She can't tell if it's because he has realized the limits of his feeble human brain or because his hand has settled on the gate handle, meaning that they are officially back home. "Let's try your candle idea first, then I can figure out how to clean up your mess."
*
The emergency cash is stored in a box at the back of one of the kitchen cabinets.
Aki and Angel are talking at the kitchen table when they come back inside. It would be impossible to obtain money without drawing both of their attention. To circumvent this problem, Denji slips Power the credit card with a warning to be careful with it.
Power assures him that it is in the most capable hands in the world. Denji's uneasy expression doesn't bother her; all that it means is that he will be left feeling like a fool for having had doubts. With a confident grin, she tugs on a hat, sneaks out the back door, and sets off on her quest.
Fetching the candles takes longer than she anticipated. Walking to the store takes no more than twenty minutes, but when she gets there, there's just so much stuff. She knew to expect it, of course, yet she can't help but find that venturing into the endless aisles alone is vastly different from scouting for supplies with Denji and Aki. Time slips away as she wanders beneath the fluorescent lights, staring at endless rows of boxes and cans and meat and produce. For a time, she forgets about the purpose of her visit completely.
Then she finds herself in front of a candle display, and not only does her mission come crashing back her, but a new conundrum presents itself.
There are so many.
The candles come in an overwhelming variety of sizes, scents, and colors. Power starts picking them up and sniffing them. Each and every one of them has a strong chemical odor underlying what she suspects they're supposed to smell like to humans. Her head starts to hurt after a few candles. She presses onward, and eventually, her head is throbbing and the aromas have bled into an indistinguishable mass.
Power still doesn't have any clue which of the candles is best for covering up the scent of old food.
In the end, she does the smart thing and buys one of each.
*
Walking home carrying over thirty candles is no easy feat, but Power is strong enough to make the trip with relative ease. Perhaps a sheen of sweat has formed on her brow by the time she makes her way up to the front door, five overflowing shopping bags in hand, but she knows that any one of her housemates would be in a far worse condition.
It doesn't occur to her that she should probably be trying to sneak in until she's already opened the door. Fortunately, it turns out to be a non-issue.
"She's home!" Denji calls out from the direction of the living room, half relieved, half triumphant.
Power can just make out Aki grumbling a response. Denji shoots something back, louder, but not loud enough for her to easily determined his words.
She is distracted from attempting to listen in on them by Angel padding into the kitchen. He freezes in the doorway, mouth parting slightly as he stares at the bags in her hands. Power holds them up with a triumphant grin. The faint strain in her arms is worth it for the way Angel's eyes widen in staggered admiration.
"I have obtained candles," she declares.
"I can see that," is Angel's breathless response. "How..." He cuts himself off with a shake of his head and holds one of his hands out.
Power moves to pass him one of the bags.
Angel snatches his hand and says, "The card, Power."
Power carefully sets the bags down, candles clinking and clacking against each other as they jostle around. With free hands, she slips one into her pocket to wrap her fingers around the credit card. "How do I know I can trust you with it?" she warily asks.
"Trust me?" Angel parrots.
"How do I know you will make responsible choices when given such a responsibility," Power clarifies.
"Responsible choices," Angel deadpans. "Like buying five bags worth of candles?"
"Did he just say five bags?" Denji's voice hisses from the other room.
Aki snaps something sharp and low in response.
Power tilts her head up. "What you see is a result of my superior decision-making skills. I was not willing to risk leaving behind the candle that would do the job, so I bought one of each."
Angel's face screws up. He opens his mouth to retort, and she braces herself to smack him down with her superior wit. Before either of them can get a word out, Aki calls, "Power."
Power glances toward the living room. When she looks back at Angel, he's holding his hand out once again.
A scowl erupts across her face. "You could do no better than I," she mutters. The words do not hit as hard as she wishes, for she pulls the credit card out of her pocket and slaps it down into Angel's hand.
"Thank you," he says, turning around and walking back into the living room.
Power wordlessly grumbles under her breath as she collects her candles and stalks after him.
The windows in the living room are wide open, and the room itself smells faintly of chemicals. Aki and Denji are sitting on opposite ends of their tattered couch, Denji with his arms crossed and Aki with his fingers drumming uneasily against the couch's arm. Angel stills the movement by sitting beside him and slipping the card into his hand. Aki sighs, murmurs a quiet thanks, and slips the card into his pocket.
"Hey, Powy, didya know that there's this stuff you can spray to get rid of bad smells?" Denji asks, tired and defeated. His eyes are not on her, but the bags of candles in her hands.
"...What?" Power asks.
"Yeah." Denji sinks deeper into the couch. "You just spray it where it stinks, open the windows, and boom, all clean."
"That's not how it works," Aki murmurs.
Power allows the bags of candles to drop down to the ground with a thunk. A few come rolling out. "Since when has this existed?" she demands.
"For years," comes Aki's tired mutter. "You've seen me use it before." Power looks his way to see him move his hand up to rub at his forehead. When it bumps against the barrel of his gun, he drops it like it's on fire.
Angel puts a hand on his shoulder.
"Yeeeeah, and also..." Denji uncrosses his arms and looks away. His voice has gone soft with shame when he continues, "Apparently, scented candles have like, a lot of chemicals. Most of them give devils and fiends really bad headaches. So we can't actually use those."
Power freezes. Then, oh so slowly, she looks down at the mountain of candles at her feet. "But my bounty..."
Angel stands up and walks over to the bags. Power steps to the side as he begins to rifle through them.
Meanwhile, Aki asks, "Do you have the receipt?"
Power shoots him a confused look. "What's a receipt?"
Aki turns his head toward Denji, who sinks lower onto the couch. His entire lower half is dangling off it by this point. Power would laugh at the sight if she didn't get the sense that Aki would not appreciate it.
"I hope you like scented candles," Aki says.
Denji sits up to protest, "But that's girl shit!"
"Then your room is about to smell very girly."
"Dude, no."
"She got thirty-four of them," Angel declares, looking up from the pile before him.
"Maybe you should have thought of that before giving her the means to buy thirty-four candles that only you can use," Aki mercilessly intones.
"I did not get them for Denji, " Power grumbles, sitting down to slump in between him and Aki.
"...I know," Aki says. "It's good that you're trying to be responsible. But next time you need help, please just come to me if you need help."
Power and Denji exchange a look. They don't need to say anything to know what the other is thinking, what they're both thinking.
Aki might be willing to offer help, but he's in no state to provide it. That much is evident in everything from the uneasy way he carries himself to the sound of his voice just now. It's soft, also wrong, exhausted and fractured where she can tell that he's trying to be reassuring. And this is on something close to a good day, when he has the heart and energy to at least try to fulfill his previous role and hold them together. What about the days when he can't even manage that?
If Aki can't see that he isn't okay when it's already so obvious, how are they supposed to tell him?
Neither of them has to say anything in the end. Aki rises to his feet with a sigh, and a muttered, "I'm heading to bed."
Power's head snaps up. "But it is not night yet?" True, the sun had been on the way to set when she walked in the door, but it is not yet truly night.
"I'm really tired," Aki says by way of explanation, as if that is an acceptable excuse. As if he isn't always tired these days.
"But we haven't even had dinner yet," Denji protests.
"You haven't eaten at all," Angel adds, rising to his feet.
Aki is not unmoved, he's just moved in the wrong way. It's with something bitter and aching that he says, "I can wait until tomorrow. It's not like skipping meals for a day will hurt me."
Angel frowns, looking like he wants to say something, and Power frowns but doesn't know what to do at all. Denji is the one who says, "You know that's not the point."
Aki sighs. "Denji, please. I'm not..." he shakes his head. "I'm not in the mood." Shooting one last glance at the candles, he adds, "Someone puts those away."
Then he stalks off back to the room of darkness and smoke.
None of them move for a while. The stillness is shattered by Angel, who bends down to collect the bags of candles. "Denji, order something for dinner."
"...Right," Denji says after a moment, rising to his feet. He only takes a few stiff steps toward the kitchen before he asks, "Uh, do you think you could do something about...?"
"I'll try. Just... Give him some time first."
"Alright, yeah."
With that, Denji walks off to order takeout for the seventh time that week.
Angel finishes gathering the candles and heads off to stash them somewhere.
Power melts into the couch and wishes things were how they used to be.
*
The rest of the day passes in the dreary slog that Power has become bitterly accustomed to. She and Denji chat and bicker throughout dinner, good quality takeout that she feels like she can barely even taste, but it feels like a hollow ghost of the dinners that they used to have. Angel picks at his food and watches them in silence for a time. Eventually, he takes his plate to the kitchen and slinks off to Aki's room. Power and Denji talk about playing a video game or watching a movie, but nothing sounds good. Eventually, they go to bed as well.
And Power sleeps.
For a while.
The room is dark when she wakes up. The familiarity of the situation isn't enough to keep her heart racing for a horrible, shameful instant as she regains consciousness. Power rolls onto her side and buries her face in Denji's shoulder, tugging him a little closer. He moans, but doesn't wake up.
She counts to ten before letting him go and peeling her face back.
The room is dark, but it isn't pitch black. A subtle glow from the nightlight in the corner casts gentle shadows in the room. Shadows that the darkness devil does not reside in, or Makima, or anything else. Power can't help but cast them a wary look as she sits up, but it is brief. She had more important things to check on.
Once her eyes have adjusted to the dark, she peers down at Denji. He isn't having a nightmare that she can see, but it doesn't look like he's having a good dream, either. His lips are pulled down heavily and his brow is creased. It reminds her of a softer version of how Aki tends to look when he sleeps. For a moment, she considers waking him up and seeing if he might have a nice dream if he tries going to bed again.
She dismisses the thought almost immediately. Denji's dreams have been bad or nonexistent since her and Aki's near-deaths. It's unlikely that this will be the night when that changes. The quality of his dreams doesn't really matter anyway. Slowly, with creeping dread and breathless hope, Power turns her attention to the steady rise and fall of his chest.
Denji is alive.
Power carefully extracts herself from the bed. Her footsteps are feather-light as she pads out of the room. The door does not creak when she opens it, and the floorboards do not betray her presence. It is with the utmost silence that she sneaks into Aki's room.
Aki has no nightlight. His room, always gloomy, is almost impossibly dark under the cover of night. She has to walk over to his bedside and squint down at him, struggling to make anything out. The wait is enough to make her stomach churn and her throat begin to constrict. She's considering shaking him awake when she finally sees him breathing.
Aki is alive.
It's not enough. There's still a part of Power that wants to wake Aki up, to make sure that he can wake up. Her hand is already reaching for his shoulder when she forces herself to pull it back.
Aki sleeps a lot. Probably too much, but she doesn't know that. It has been two weeks since he woke, but the injuries he endured during his fight with Denji were... severe. He might still be in a place where he genuinely needs the rest.
She hopes that he needs it.
But even if he doesn't, he will not appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night. It is Power's right and responsibility to wake Aki up, but it is not time yet. She needs to wait until it's time.
Aki's bed is empty, aside from him. She has one more stop to make before she can go back to bed.
Power reluctantly sneaks out of Aki's room and closes the door behind her. She allows herself to step a little more heavily as she heads into the living room. By now, she knows that there is no point in trying to be quiet for the next part of her nighttime routine.
Angel must have left Aki's room after she and Denji went to bed. He is nearly invisible from his nest of pillows and blankets on the couch. It does not stay that way for long. A groan arises from the lump as she approaches, and when she stops to stare down at him, he pulls the blanket down to glower at her blearily, a single crimson eye visible in the moonlight spilling through the window.
"I liked it more when you didn't care if I died in my sleep," he grumbles.
Power frowns. "I don't."
"Then stop doing this."
"No."
Angel groans and rolls over. Power knows that's her cue to go away. He's obviously alive, so there's no need for her to linger any longer.
She lingers.
Another groan arises from the blanket mountain. Angel turns back over with the laborious motions of someone making the greatest effort of his life. He stares at Power. Power stares back. Finally, he grumbles something under his breath and sits up, his folded, ruffled wings twitching slightly behind him as they emerge from the blankets.
"Did you need something?" he grumbles.
Power frowns. 'No,' she almost says. However, when she opens her mouth, she ends up closing it with an audible clack a second later. She ends up looking down the hallway without intending to do so.
"...How is Aki?" she asks, looking back at Angel.
Angel's expression is impassive, but she catches the way his wings and shoulders droop just before he shrugs. "Same as ever," he says. "Today wasn't a good day."
"But it was not bad," Power insists.
"No. But it wasn't good either."
A heavy, tickling weight in Power's chest does an uncomfortable flip-flop. It drags her eyes down to her feet, only to be pulled back up by Angel's heavy sigh.
"It's not your fault," Angel says. There is an earnestness to the dread in his voice, like the act of speaking honestly is draining him that much more. He can't bring himself to look at her, instead fiddling with his fingers as he continues, "There's only so much any of us can do. It'll probably take a while for him to..." He sighs, hands tightening into fists and falling dropping into his lap. "It hasn't been very long. If he's gonna get better, it'll take longer than this."
"He will," Power says without thinking. She doesn't need to think to know that she's right.
Crimson eyes slide over to her warily.
"He will get better," Power repeats. Correctly. She has to be correct. Not just about Aki, either. Everyone but her is a little broken right now, but that's fine. Aki, Denji, even Angel, all of them will get better. She knows they'll get better.
It can't be like this forever.
"...Sure, Power." Angel lies back and shuffles under the blankets, a tired exhale leaving his mouth. "Can I go back to sleep now?"
Power nods. "I shall see you on the morrow."
With that, she turns around, slinks down the hall, and crawls back into bed with Denji.
It is morning when she awakens again.
*
The morning is uneventful. It always is these days. Angel remains asleep on the couch while Power and Denji argue in the kitchen. He says that they should just have toast for breakfast, while she insists that he should try to cook.
Power wins. The results are disastrous. They end up eating toast.
Angel is less than impressed when he wakes up to find the mess they've made of the kitchen. He doesn't make as much of a fuss as Aki would have, just staring at them in faint, detached horror for a moment before warning them that they need to clean up before the fourth member of their household awakens. Efforts to get him to help clean fail miserably.
Between Power and Denji, it takes hours for them to clean up. They've just finished throwing the last dirty, batter-covered rag away when she glances at the clock.
It is noon. Time to wake Aki.